


Riptide

by kathierif_fic



Category: CSI: NY
Genre: Multi, Post-Series, Ten Years Later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 11:07:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6077082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathierif_fic/pseuds/kathierif_fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Many years later, and Mac contemplates things. Life, Love, the usual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Riptide

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ginny305](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ginny305/gifts).



> This is probably not the spot for the old, oooold joke about a drabble being about 1,000 words?
> 
> anyways. Here's to the next 70 dog years :P

Mac hesitated for a brief moment, key in hand, in front of the door of his own apartment and listened.

He couldn't hear much, but the TV was running, he was certain, and if the TV was running, someone was home, waiting for him.

It was still a strange feeling, after all those years of loneliness, to have someone waiting for him again, keeping food warm on the stove for when he came home hungry after pulling a double shift, keeping a spot on the couch for him for when there was something on tv that he actually wanted to watch, pushing his case-files from the dining table to the desk in his home office with a good-natured joke when it was time for dinner.

He smiled as he finally put his key in the lock and entered the apartment.

It had taken them a while to come to the decision to move in together, and it came with a few shifts in their work life as well as their private lives. And once they had decided, it took them a long time to find the perfect place, with good schools close by for Lucy, but at the same time not too far away from their workspace.

For a while, Danny had moved to the night shift, to avoid conflict of interest, but as a result, they had barely managed to spend time together, which, in turn, defied the purpose of the exercise. They had had long discussions, about the things they wanted and the lengths they were willing to go to to get those things.

And then, finally, they had found a solution that worked for all of them. 

Mac could feel himself relax and start to smile as he hung up his coat, pushed a pile of sneakers - not all of them Lucy's, but her dad's, as well - back into an approximation of a straight line, added his own shoes to the end of it and hung up the tie that had been flung onto the small table that held the bowl with their keys.

This really was home now.

Juggling his briefcase and a pile of case files, he walked further into the apartment to find Danny sitting at the table in their kitchen, glasses sliding adorably down his nose as he checked Lucy's homework. A towel was slung across his shoulder, indicating that it was his turn to cook and that he'd started with the preparations already.

He was muttering to himself, Mac could hear it from the spot by the door where he'd stopped to watch Danny, and he was scratching at the back of his neck as if he was investigating an important piece of evidence.

If there was one thing Danny took really seriously, it was the education of his kid, but then, Mac thought as he finally stepped into the room and up to Danny, to lean against his back and kiss the top of his head in greeting, it was something they all took seriously. 

Danny grinned and leaned up for a proper kiss, which Mac gave him without further prompting.

They've learned the hard way that work wasn't everything and that they consciously needed to make time and room for each other, even if it was just a brief moment every now and then, before their daily lives dragged them apart and into different directions again.

"Where's Lucy?" Mac asked softly while dropping his files onto the table and straightening, his spine protesting against the position he'd been in for too long, even if it had been just a few minutes.

He wasn't the youngest anymore, and standing hunched over a microscope for hours definitely was a thing of the past. His hair had turned white at his temples years ago, leaving him looking either distinguished or old, depending on the time of the day and the amount of rest he'd managed to get the night before.

"With Don," Danny explained and scribbled something in the margins of what looked like math homework. "Looking at pictures."

Mac frowned slightly. "What kind of pictures?" he asked, although he knew for a fact that Don would never bring home the kind of pictures that would leave Lucy with nightmares. Don couldn't love Lucy more if she were his own, after all, and the fact that he always had candy in his glovebox sure made her love him back with as much force as only a kid of ten years could. 

Danny grimaced. "Well, he was cleaning out the box under the bed, and the one in the closet," he explained. "And he found some old pictures. From way back when. When we were young and good-looking."

"You're still young and good-looking," Mac replied without thinking about his words, only to stop and blink, mentally reviewing what he'd just said.

Danny snorted with laughter and dropped the pencil. "Charmer," he said fondly, but he stood and wrapped his arms around Mac in a gentle hug, followed by a kiss that had lost nothing of its heat over the years.

Mac held on to him, one hand buried in Danny's hair, soft and silky now that Danny was letting it grow a little longer again, the other wrapped around his middle, and enjoyed the moment as much as he could.

When Danny finally pulled back slightly and let his forehead rest on Mac's shoulder, careful of his glasses, Mac brushed his nose against his ear and inhaled deeply, trying, again and again, to commit the smell of the younger man to his memory.

If he'd learned anything, it was that he could not take love for granted. 

Not after Claire, and not after all those other relationships that failed for one reason or another; not all of them Mac's fault, but he did carry his fair share of blame for at least some of them.

They finally separated, Danny, to go back to the pots and pans and ingredients he'd already set out on the counter, and Mac to put on more comfortable clothes and to see what kind of pictures Don had dug up.

The boxes Don had wanted to sort through had been there since the day they'd moved in. Mac was pretty certain that it was Danny who'd brought them and had pushed them out of the way, to the back of the closet and the furthest corner under their bed, but he hadn't been sure anymore when Don had brought the topic up, a few days ago. Ddanny claimed he couldn't remember who'd brought them, but he'd told Don that he could sort through them if he really felt the need for it.

It looked as if Don had.

They didn't have secrets, not the way they used to, and neither Danny nor Mac had any problems with letting Don sort through the boxes.

Danny probably was glad someone else had volunteered for the job.

 

He found Don sprawled on the couch, long limbs spread out, dressed in jeans and an old, soft-washed t-shirt that probably hadn't started as his own, if Mac remembered correctly. 

It looked a lot like one of his own, Mac thought as he took in the scene - there was a book on Don's knees, and Lucy was curled into his side, under his arm, her pigtails slightly uneven and her attention focused completely on what Don was pointing out. The TV was indeed running, but nobody was paying any attention to it.

Mac smiled and went to put on comfortable clothes. Their bedroom looked a little bit like a disaster zone, with boxes upended and stuff piled up around them, but Mac knew that Don would clean the mess up soon enough. 

There certainly were advantages of having known each other for so long, he mused as he pulled a sweater over his head. Back in the day, he would've stormed back to the living room and demanded that Don clean the mess immediately, and they would probably start to argue, even if it was only half-heartedly. 

He wouldn't have stopped picking at it, he thought as he carefully moved a pair of ice skates out of his way and back to their original spot at the bottom of Don's part of the closet, Don would feel as if Mac had attacked him, personally, and a real fight would have started, one Danny would get involved in, and if Danny got involved, hot-headed as he was, the night would definitely end ugly. Accusations would fly, and in the end, one of them would storm out and spend the night somewhere else - with friends, with family, or on the couch in the lab's break room.

There was a reason they'd taken so long to take this step, move in together and give up their apartments.

They all had settled down with age, Mac thought as he walked back to the living room. This time, Don and Lucy looked up when he entered, and he smiled at them and joined them, cuddling up to Don's side and taking a look at the pictures he had dug up.

"You sure looked young back then," Don teased, and Mac snorted and kissed his temple, where Don's hair was turning silvery-grey. 

Lucy turned a page of the book, revealing a new picture - Don, leaning against a wall, dark hair hanging in his face, cigarette in his hand and dressed in his old leather jacket. He was turned away from the camera, only his profile visible, and just seeing the picture of a young Don while holding the man himself - short-cut, greying hair, still brilliant blue eyes, body relaxed and at peace - in his arms sent a wave of love through Mac.

"Definitely Danny's stuff," Don muttered under his breath. "His pictures." He pointed at the next one, showing Aiden and Don, laughing, while telling Lucy about Aiden, making sure to stay away from the gruesome details of her death.

"There's your mom," Don said and turned the page again, and Mac relaxed into the couch and let Don's voice wash over him, only interrupted by Lucy's curious questions every now and then. After a while, Danny joined them, tucking Lucy between himself and Don, and Mac let his thoughts drift as he looked at the pictures Danny had put together.

They had changed a lot over the years, he thought, his eyes on another picture - one Danny had taken with his camera, a selfie long before anyone knew what a selfie was. He remembered a few moments like that: Him and Danny and Don, out in the city after another solved crime, happy and carefree in the way he hadn't felt in a long time, half-empty glasses in front of them, Sheldon and Stella in the background. They were all smiling, Danny's glasses had been knocked askew, and just looking at the picture reminded him that while yes, they all had changed a lot in the years since the picture had been taken, way more than their hair turning grey and white, one thing hadn't changed.

They still loved each other.

And, Mac thought as Don turned another page and revealed more pictures, more memories, of Lucy as a baby and people that had walked with them on their path, people that were still among their friends and people long gone, and, again and again, Don and Mac and Danny, together and separately, laughing and smiling and crying and exhausted and happy and sad, as long as they did love each other, who cared about aching bones, grey hair and wrinkles?

Mac didn't, and he was certain Don and Danny felt the same.


End file.
